Taking His Place
by Channel D
Summary: When an injury sidelines Tim, Abby feels compelled to step into his shoes. Someone's life depends on her, but no one must find out what she's doing! Drama/action/case file written for the NFA Abby Wears the Pants challenge. Three chapters; now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Taking His Place**

**by channeld**

_written for_: the NFA _Abby Wears the Pants_ challenge. This challenge requires a Tim/Abby situation in which Abby is in control.  
><em>rating<em>: K plus  
><em>genre<em>: drama, action, case file  
><em>pairing<em>: McAbby friendship

* * *

><p><em>disclaimer<em>: I still own nothing of NCIS.

* * *

><p><strong>10:02 p.m.<strong>

Abby stood before Tim's closet, pushing the clothes on hangers back and forth, quietly, searching…searching. Darn it, he was _so_ skinny. This would be hard. She was only a few inches shorter than he was, so the height wasn't an issue. His suit coats and shirts, though, were out. Her chest was bigger than his was…particularly given his weight loss in the last few years. And as for pants? She bit back a sigh. Most men didn't have hips to speak of. McGee had _no_ hips; none at all. A physical abnormality, he was. She, on the other hand, had a woman's standard hips. It had never been an issue until now.

There was _nothing_ in the closet that would work!

She almost gave the hangers a shove, punishing them for not being helpful. Then she remembered Tim.

He, though, was soundly asleep, still. _Good._

_There must be _something…_Aha!_ His dresser. Opening a bottom drawer with the greatest caution lest it squeak, she was rewarded with just the thing: a dark-colored, nondescript sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. Yes, those would fit her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>7:43 p.m.<strong>_

"_Ow. Who'd have guessed this could hurt so much?"_

_Abby gave him a sympathetic, yet stern, look. "Don't move around so much, Tim." She gave him a supportive arm as he sat down on his bed, and propped the crutches against the night stand. He lay down on the bed, and she gently helped him swing the injured leg up. "Do you want to take the painkillers now?"_

"_No…maybe. I don't know," he sighed. "Why is it that we are wussier about minor injuries than we are about major ones?"_

_She folded her arms and smirked at him. "You want me to call your mother?"_

"_Oh, would you?" he asked. "She'd get on the next plane out here. My mom loves me."_

_Abby gave him a very light whack on his head. "No, she wouldn't. I've talked to your mom on the phone a couple of times, remember? She'd tell you to suck it up and don't get in this mess again."_

"_Yeah, that sounds like her."_

"_Take your painkillers. I'll get you a glass of water. Do you want me to take your shoes off? I'll take your shoes off."_

"_I'm okay, Abby. Calm down," Tim said, and winced at the pain. Abby filled a glass with water and offered him two pills, which he took._

"_Gibbs is not going to forgive me for breaking you," she said, frowning. "Not with so much at stake."_

"_So don't tell him yet," Tim said, his eyes closing. The apartment was warm, and the stress of the last day combined with his cold just made him tired._

_Abby nodded, wondering how long she could avoid talking to Gibbs._

* * *

><p><strong>10:21 p.m.<strong>

She gave Jethro, Tim's faithful dog, a pat before she left. "Wish me luck," she whispered. Then, in a flash of reasoning, she knew something had to be done with her hair. She had a couple of seldom-used barrettes in her purse; these she used to quickly pin her braids to the top of her head, without the aid of a mirror. There wasn't time to check a mirror. It didn't matter if she looked terribly neat or not; she just had to look something like…_Tim_, at night, at a distance. She knew he kept a spare NCIS swoop cap in his closet, for those rare occasions when he left for an assignment directly from home. It was a little tight over her braids, but it would do.

_Sorry, Timmy,_ she thought as she slipped his cell phone into her pocket, leaving her own in its place on the table. They might try to contact Tim. They wouldn't need to contact _her._

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:21 a.m.<strong>_

_She tried to listen to what Gibbs and the team were saying, she really did (fully convinced that she could multitask), but her eyes and ears were drawn to the_ ZNN _report on the TV. Then she realized that the others were watching, too._

"…little Bonnie Dakins, seen in this 2010 family photo, who was first reported missing from her home in Alexandria two days ago. The ransom demand, made yesterday, has touched the hearts of all in the metro area. In an emotional statement issued today, her father, Navy Captain Joseph Dakins, pleaded with the kidnappers to return his daughter safely. Her mother wept…"

_Abby was not always swept away by kid stories, but Bonnie Dakins' appealed to her. The then 5-year-old with a tousled head of frizzy hair and big brown eyes behind pink-rimmed glasses had an infectious grin in the photo. Another photo, often flashed by the news media, showed her in the grass with a cricket in the palm of her hand. This is what got to Abby. Six years old, and Bonnie had her life mapped out already_.

"…because she wants to be an entomologist when she grows up," her father was saying, his voice choked. "She just _loves_ bugs. And she's smart, so smart, she knows that's what an entomologist does, and it's often mistaken for an etymologist. She's proud that she knows that."

_Abby was proud, too, of this little girl she'd never met; this proto-scientist, this girl who could bravely lead her generation of females into science and math._

"_You've got to find her, Gibbs," Abby heard herself saying._

"_Working on it, Abbs," she heard him say from somewhere behind her._

* * *

><p><strong>10:26 p.m.<strong>

She raced out of Tim's apartment, shrugging into his trench coat (without closing it) with a goal in mind but no clear idea of how to implement it. Before she started Tim's car, she pulled Tim's phone and stared at it for a long minute. Then she started texting.

**I need the location for the drop.**

Within seconds, Ziva's reply came.

**In Prince William Forest Park; a mile from the entrance. Were you not listening before? And are you texting while driving, McGee?**

Abby's face burned at the scolding implication, although in fact she hadn't even started the engine yet. She was glad that Ziva hadn't asked _why_ she was texting.

**Got it. Thanks.**

She hoped that sounded curt enough, like Tim would do if mildly stressed.

Now where in the world was Prince William Forest Park, again?

* * *

><p><em><strong>1:07 p.m.<strong>_

"_Honestly, boss; I can stay. You might need me. As a back-up, maybe."_

_Gibbs gave Tim a look. "Told you half an hour ago to go home, McGee. You know how the Director feels about people here spreading flu germs."_

"_I don't think it's the flu; I think it's a cold. Besides, the Dakins—"_

"_We can handle the case. DiNozzo will make the drop."_

"_But you might—"_

_Gibbs sighed greatly in resignation. "Leave your phone on, just in case. But we're going to try to not need you. Now, go."_

* * *

><p><strong>10:32 p.m.<strong>

This was a good time to be alive, Abby decided, when the internet was on one's cell phone. She really did have a vague idea where Prince William Forest Park was; in…Virginia. Or maybe West Virginia. But the internet clearly showed it as being in Virginia, and provided directions. All she had to do was drive south on I-95 until she got there.

And then…do something.

With luck, it would be something that wasn't very dangerous. She didn't like danger; didn't handle it very well.

I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, she told herself.

* * *

><p><em><strong>3:47 p.m.<strong>_

_Abby rang the doorbell, and listened. Yes, there was the familiar, faint, thump of a tail on the floor. Jethro had her scent, and was signaling that a friend was at the door._

"_Abby?"_

_She had to switch mental gears to accept that it was not the dog calling her. "Timmy, I've brought you soup and orange juice and other things to make you well."_

_He let her in. "You didn't have to leave work early to do this. But thanks."_

"_It's a pressure cooker there at NCIS. Everyone's so stressed about little Bonnie Dakins. I needed to get away. So I thought I would do my bit by doing something for you." She took a sack of groceries into the kitchen. "Shouldn't you be lying down, or something?"_

_He smiled, and then sneezed into his shirt sleeve. "I had to get up; there was someone at the door."_

"_A lame excuse. Well, sit down while I nuke the soup. I haven't eaten at all today, so I brought some for me, too."_

"_I hope it's chicken soup."_

"_Of course it is. Chicken and wild rice."_

"_Mmmmm. You make up for me not being needed at work."_

* * *

><p><strong>11:16 p.m.<strong>

She had driven fast, but traffic was fairly light at this time of night and the weather was clear. There was still plenty of time until the rendezvous: time to get her thoughts in order, to make a plan, to mentally shape herself to act like someone else. To act like a special agent.

Gibbs is going to kill me when he finds out, she thought. On several counts.

But it won't mean much if I can't save Bonnie.

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:01 a.m.<strong>_

_Gibbs snapped his fingers as he breezed back into the squad room, with fresh coffee in hand. "The case is ours now. The FBI is letting us take the lead, now that it looks like someone on Capt. Dakins' ship might be involved."_

_Tony punched one hand into another, but withheld comment. Tim nodded deeply, and Ziva's hand unconsciously went toward one of the knives that she wore._

"_Gibbs, I'll need whatever evidence the FBI—"_

"_It'll be here within the hour, Abbs."_

"_The kidnappers haven't made solid demands yet," Tim noted, and coughed._

"_They will. They're only considering how much they can get," Gibbs said grimly._

"_We are not…not going to meet their demands, are we?"_

"_Not in the way they might think, Ziva. With a child's life at stake, we…have to be flexible."_

_Tony raised a hand. "If there's going to be a drop, I want to do it, boss. You know I'm the best man for the job. Sorry, McGermy."_

"_Why cannot I do it?" Ziva protested._

_Gibbs shook his head. "A woman making the drop might be a distraction for them, and we don't want them rattled. But let's wait to see what they say, first."_

* * *

><p><strong>11:20 p.m.<strong>

She pulled into the park entrance and parked. Then she texted Ziva again, hoping that the continued use of texts, instead of voice, wouldn't make Ziva suspicious.

**I'm in the park. Where do I go now?**

Ziva sent back coordinates for the drop location, and added,

**I will keep you in sight at all times, McGee, once you get to the fork for the trail.**

That was reassuring. No Tony, no Tim to act as back-up…_no Gibbs!_ But Ziva was a superb fighter. Abby figured she was safe with Ziva watching from the shadows…she hoped.

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:57 p.m.<strong>_

_Abby happened to be in the living room, right by Tim's phone, when it rang. She picked it up to muffle the sound in her hand so it wouldn't wake Tim. Gibbs is going to kill me when he finds I've broken Tim, she thought for the hundredth time, it seemed._

_The display showed it was Tony calling. Tony? Shouldn't he be preparing to do the drop? "Hello, Tony?"_

"Abbs! Why are you on McGeek's phone? Never mind; I don't want to know. Just yet. Put him on!"_ Tony's words came in a tumble, and were suffused with excitement (and a touch of a leer)._ "McGee!" _he said a scarce moment later. _"Forget your cold and get out to the drop site, pronto! I got in a car wreck and I think my shoulder's busted. I'm in the ER, waiting to be seen. Gibbs can't do the drop; Vance pulled him for some security detail for the SECNAV."

_Abby coughed as she tried to reply, tried to tell Tony…_

"McGee; I've got to go. They're calling my name here. Come on, Obi-Tim! You're our only hope!" _He ended the call before Abby had stopped coughing._

* * *

><p><strong>11:22 p.m.<strong>

Abby stepped out of the car, locked it, and then she started trembling. What if I can't do this? These are dangerous people! We don't even know if they'll have Bonnie here, just because they said they would…

She gripped the briefcase she held tighter. It was her own seldom-used briefcase that she kept in the trunk of her own car, for those rare and unpleasant times when she had to testify in court. A briefcase is a briefcase, she told herself. The kidnappers wouldn't know the difference.

It struck her that Tony had never mentioned the role of a briefcase in the drop, or how Tim was supposed to get the "official" one. Tony was probably too distracted in pain to think of it. What was in the official one? Real cash? Monopoly money? What was in hers? Nothing, now, except a pen or two and those horrid glasses that she sometimes wore at court. She knew that she had to put something in the briefcase to give it some weight…

She unlocked Tim's car and looked for something; anything. But the car was very tidy and yielded nothing but his car owner's manual and registration, and those she left alone. She relocked the car and leaned against it, thinking.

Then she got an idea and gathered up stray twigs, leaves and pebbles, filling the case with those. Yes; now it had a good, weighty feel.

I can do this, she thought. I can wear the pants here and do the drop. And then Bonnie will be safe. It's that simple.

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:10 a.m.<strong>_

"_But, Gibbs; NCIS never meets ransom demands, does it?" Abby argued. "That just encourages criminals to do it again, and again!"_

_Gibbs turned toward her, as if having forgotten she was in the squad room. "Don't you have something you should be doing in the lab?"_

"_But, Gibbs—!"_

_He only pointed to the elevator. Wearing a pout, she stormed out…but instead of going to the elevator, took a turn as is heading for the stairs. She hid around the corner where she could barely hear the team talking._

"_I don't get it either, boss," said Tim. "There's no guarantee that they'll turn over the girl. In fact, they probably won't, because she might identify them."_

"_Perhaps they are hoping that a six-year-old cannot give a good description," Ziva mused._

"_Not my choice. This comes from above," said Gibbs._

"_Not surprising," Tony remarked. "Captain Dakins' CO is a close friend of the Chief of Naval Operations. He has the pull to make…unorthodox moves. Boss, hasn't anyone told him that statistics show that kidnappers—"_

"_He knows."_

"_Then—" _

"_He's desperate."_

"_A parent will do almost anything for their child, usually," Ziva put in._

"_Doesn't it take time to get 1.5 million in cash together? I don't think my ATM card would—"_

"_Anything's possible, if you know the right people."_

_At this point Abby did leave. This was already too much to absorb. How could NCIS have so much faith that the kidnappers would turn over the girl? What if they took the money and ran? What would they do to the child?_

* * *

><p><strong>11:31 p.m.<strong>

What does someone making a drop need to know? Abby wondered as she strode purposefully toward the meeting point. Then she checked her stride. Ziva would be expecting to see Tim. She would, in her mind, if Abby walked like Tim. But how did Tim walk? She couldn't think of anything distinctive about his walk.

Guys, she knew, didn't swing their hips as they went. She stopped, and then started again, moving more carefully.

Where was Ziva? Abby fought back against the urge to look around for her. Don't give it away, don't give it away… Ziva would have her back; would keep her safe. Ziva knew when to zig and when to zag in times of danger.

Bonnie Dakins is counting on me, she told herself. Well, she probably doesn't know it, but she is.

I'm her only hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

><p><strong>11:35 p.m.<strong>

**What is your position?**

Abby stared at the text on Tim's cell phone, thinking how to answer. Then Ziva texted her again.

**It is too early. The drop is scheduled for 11:55.**

Whew! Was that all she wanted to say?

**No problemo! I'm all about keeping to a schedule.**

Oh, no! McGee would never sound like that! If only there was a _retract message_ button on phones…

**You are sounding quite clipper tonight.**

Abby recovered from having died a thousand deaths.

**The word is 'chipper.' Sorry; a bit nervous.**

She trotted a little uneasily in place, and then texted again.

**I'll hold in place for another 15 minutes, and then move in.**

Ziva's reply was a relief to her.

**That is fine. Do not be nervous. It will work out.**

Of course it will. Of course it will. Of course it will.

* * *

><p><em><strong>4:27 p.m.<strong>_

"_Get up! Come on, McGee! Shake a leg! Dance that cold and those soup calories off!"_

_Tim laughed before he sneezed again. "Dance? I've never heard of that as a cure for a cold."_

"_Well, there's no cure for a cold; everyone knows that. But it stands to reasons that the symptoms can be addressed by a little exercise to loosen the phlegm and all."_

"_So why, then, is my natural, emphasis on 'natural', instinct is to lie down and rest?"_

"_Oh, come on! I'll put on some music and we can shake it off!"_

"_You just want a dancing partner because _you_ feel like dancing." He looked at her, amused, and made a move to sit down._

_She grabbed his hands, having flicked on his radio. The station it was tuned to came out with a Gregorian chant, but she ignored the incongruity. "Dance with me! One, two, step, step."_

"_Jethro, stop moving about my legs. Abby, don't…"_

"_One, two, step, step…"_

"_Jethro! Abby!" Tim twisted, trying to avoid tripping over his dog. His body went in an unnatural direction, and he cried out over the sound of a crack. Jethro scampered out of the way as his master fell to the floor._

* * *

><p><strong>11:47 p.m.<strong>

Bonnie, are you nearby? Are you all right, child? Can you be brave?

Sometimes adults do bad things, or foolish things. But most of the adults in this world are good and kind and will always do what they can to take care of children.

I'd like to think that you and I are friends, Bonnie, even though we've never met. I'm here for you, Bonnie. I'm very close by. Be ready to take my hand, child, and soon you will be home with your mama and papa. And your bugs and magnifying glass.

* * *

><p><strong>11:37 p.m.<strong>

It was hard to be waiting; waiting in position for 11:55 to come. Abby started to have doubts—just the slightest, the merest of doubts—about this venture, but she firmly chased them from her mind. She had an idea of how the op would go down…

She would appear at the fork of the paths, the meet place.

The kidnappers would step out of the shadows. They would have little Bonnie in front of them.

Abby would stop, and then step forward; holding the briefcase in front of her.

Cautiously the sides would advance until they were about an arm's length apart. Then in a swoop of motion, Abby would thrust the briefcase forward and grab Bonnie with her other hand.

The two of them would sprint back the way Abby had come, while the kidnappers puzzled for a moment over the locked briefcase. Ziva would provide them with protective firepower, if necessary…

* * *

><p><strong>11:50 p.m.<strong>

Time to get moving. The kidnappers might freak out if she was even a minute late.

Bonnie is depending on me, Abby thought.

* * *

><p><strong>11:52 p.m.<strong>

I can't believe how crazy nervous I am.

Steady, Self. You're doing this for Bonnie; not for you.

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:47 p.m.<strong>_

_The ringtone woke Tim up. It wasn't his ringtone; it was Abby's. After hearing the third ring, he called out, over the drumming a marching band was doing in his head, "Abby! That's your phone!"_

_There was no answer from her, so Tim put his head back on the pillow; figuring she had the call and he could go back to dreamland. But then just a few minutes later, the phone rang again. "Abby!"_

_The ringing continued. Tim regretfully roused himself and gathered the nearby crutches. What was going on with Abby? Why was she even still here at this hour?_

_When he got out to the living room, he could see no sign of Abby. The bathroom door was open, so she wasn't in there. But…oddly enough, there was her phone (black, with a faceplate of skulls) on the mantle where he normally set his phone when he came in. Only his phone wasn't there…only hers. _

_Abby's phone rang for a third round. It was Tony. Without hesitation, Tim answered it, hoping for some answers._

"Abby! They're done patching me up, but I need a ride home. Sorry to impose on you at this hour, but I don't have enough cash for cab fare and I don't like using a credit card in cabs."

"_Tony? What's going on?"_

"McGee? Why are you on Abby's phone?"

"_I don't know," Tim confessed._

"Now that is just plain weird. I called your phone earlier and got Abby. What are you two up to? Is this some kind of_ Freaky Friday _thing, where you've switched bodies?"

"_Tony…"_

"'Cause if that's true, I'm not sure I want to see that. You remember the guy in that? The guy Jamie Lee Curtis was dating."

"_I've never even seen the movie. Tony, you're not making any more sense than I am. Are you on painkillers, too?"_

"Yes. But wait a minute—what are you doing on Abby's phone, and talking to me, when you're supposed to be making the drop any minute now?"

"_I'm supposed to be making the drop?"_

"Of course you. I told you that about two hours ago when I called. I said I'd been in a car wreck, and you had to pack up your sniffles and sore throat and get out there."

"_You never spoke to me. I don't think." Tim wondered if he could trust his memory at all._

"Sure I did. I called your phone, got Abby, and told her to put you on. Then I explained the situation. So where the heck are you?"

"_I'm at home. I've got a broken ankle now."_

"Then who's making the…"

"_Oh, no…"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:49 p.m.<strong>_

_Ziva had her phone on vibrate. She spoke softly into her mike. "Yes, Tony."_

"We've got a major, major, major problem…"

* * *

><p><strong>11:53 p.m.<strong>

It was time.

Tim's phone, in her (no, _his_) sweatpants pocket vibrated. Who would call Tim at almost midnight? His parents? Maybe she should answer it, if it was a family emergency. But no; they could just leave a message. This op would be over in probably ten minutes. She left the phone in her pocket.

She moved on to the specified drop point.

A full moon lit the park, aided by small trail lamps here and there. There was enough light to see, dimly, nearly anything that wasn't in the shadows. At first she didn't see anything but park stuff, and for a moment, but just a moment, she had doubts. Was this the right place? The right time? Could Ziva see her?

And then there was no more time to think about her fears, for one-two…three men walked into the puddle of trail lamp light and stopped.

Abby tried to stop her hands from shaking as she clutched the briefcase. This was all wrong! Where was Bonnie?

She stopped where she was, about 20 feet away from them, and tried to gather her thoughts.

"NCIS?" asked one of the men.

"Yes," she said, keeping her voice low, although there was no point in trying to pretend she was a man now. In her anger, she said coolly, "I take it you're not Bonnie."

Two of the men snorted.

"Where's the kid?" Abby demanded.

"Money first, then you get the kid." The speaker appeared to be the leader.

"Nuh uh," said Abby. "Kid—money. Simultaneous exchange."

"You aren't in a position to call the shots, lady."

"Look; I'm a neutral third party; just doing my job. You don't want the money that badly, then fine." Abby felt her brain sizzling as she said that, but maybe the bluff would work. She turned away.

"Wait."

She stopped and then looked over her shoulder, giving him a measured stare.

"We can have her here in the hour. You wait here, we'll release her, and she'll find her way to you."

"Sure; I'll believe that. I imagine you want me to give you the money now, anyway? And maybe throw in a lovely old bridge in Brooklyn that's been in my family for years?"

"The choice isn't yours," said the leader, frostily.

"This is a free country!" Abby yelled, before deciding that staying calm might get better results.

* * *

><p><em><strong>6:59 p.m.<strong>_

_They were lucky that it was a slow day in the Emergency Room; otherwise Tim could have waited for several more hours to be seen. That didn't make Abby much happier, though. There would come a reckoning before the almighty Gibbs, who would demand to know how her flightiness had incapacitated one of his agents…one who, while sick, was still on call._

_Maybe I just won't go into work tomorrow, she thought. I'll call in sick. Say I got whatever McGee's got; that it's something going around. Unless they think I mean his injury? Maybe I'd better not say anything._

"_You're awfully silent, Abby," Tim said with a smile as he settled into a wheelchair for a ride to the hospital entrance._

"_Yeah, I was just…just thinking about little Bonnie," she hedged, speaking softly. "I hope the drop goes off without a hitch."_

"_The others will take care of that," said Tim, then he looked at her askance. "How did you know that we're going to make a drop?"_

"_You told me." Unfortunately for Abby, her voice rose into a question; a give-away. _

"_No, we didn't," Tim insisted. "You'd gone down to your lab before we started discussing what we'd do."_

"_How do you know for sure? You left work early!"_

"_Abby…"_

"_All right, all right; I eavesdropped. So sue me. What's the big deal? Why does Gibbs care if I know about your plans?"_

* * *

><p><strong>11:54 p.m.<strong>

The henchmen had guns. Abby's mind whirled, and she blinked a few times. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to her that they might have _guns_, and might actually draw them. What was the saying about honor among thieves? She didn't have a gun. I have my spunk, she thought, and then realized that sounded really stupid.

"No kid, no cash," she said frostily. The briefcase was held tightly before her. "Don't even _think_ of trying to take the briefcase from me. Only I know how to open it."

"You've booby trapped it?" one of the men asked, and raised his gun as he scratched his head. Abby didn't want to watch what might happen next, but…nothing happened. He lowered his hand when he was done scratching. Maybe he did this a lot.

"I didn't say that." But I wish I'd thought of it, she thought fleetingly. "I'm a scientist. I know how to…to make things tough to open." It was better than acknowledging that she'd merely used the combination lock.

However, this seemed to give the leader pause. "That wasn't part of the deal," he said after a moment.

"Not my fault if you didn't think of it," she shot back. "Now, one last time. Produce the kid, or the deal's off."

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:12 p.m.<strong>_

_Gibbs looked at his watch. The security detail was going on and on. He longed to be there with his team when the drop went down, but it didn't look like that would happen. Still, he had confidence in Tony. Above all else, Tony was adept at changing any plan to meet a change in circumstances. He understood the peculiarities of this mission, the in-depth plan they'd discussed, and probably could spin with anything the kidnappers would throw at him._

_There was nothing to worry about, with Tony making the drop._

* * *

><p><strong>11:56 p.m.<strong>

"You can't make me believe that you'll walk away with a little girl's life in the balance," said the leader.

"How do I know that she's even still alive?" Abby countered. "If there's no kid, why pay 1.5 million dollars to you? Didn't you ever take a logic course? Do you know how many I've taken?"

He seemed taken aback. "No. Who cares? Give me the money, and you'll get the kid. Simple as that."

"Alive?"

"Yes, alive," he said, but with the slightest hesitation that made Abby doubt that, and that started to build a rage in her.

Before she could act, the two henchmen stepped closer, guns still pointed, and pulled the briefcase from her grasp, though not without a struggle from her. _"No!" _she cried.

She stood, helplessly, as the three men turned and melted back into the shadows. She'd failed. They still had Bonnie (Abby refused to accept any other possibility than the child still being alive), and now they had the briefcase with the money. Or what they thought was the money. When they got it open, and found out…

…Bonnie's chances would drop like a rock.

Abandoning all caution, Abby charged into the dark woods after them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:19 a.m.<strong>_

_The team met Vance in MTAC, to hear the latest from the FBI. The Bureau's interest in the case went beyond its normal pursuit of kidnappers. Bonnie Dakins' mother had been an FBI senior agent before Bonnie was born. They were willing to cede jurisdiction of the case to NCIS due to the current Navy connection, but if there was any whiff about it that smelled of the FBI, they wanted to know._

"_Any more clues as to who's behind this?" Vance asked the woman on the large screen._

"_Yes, although it sounds to us to be too incredible to be true," said the Bureau official. _

"_It's not someone on Captain Dakins' ship?"_

"_Possibly not, although there may be a connection. The clues left behind, the ransom note…our profilers want to drop the age of the suspects a few years. We might be dealing with people who are only in their late teens."_

"_Only have to be 18 to enlist in the Navy," Gibbs pointed out._

"_I know. But this profile skews toward one or more people who aren't sufficiently grown-up, for lack of a better term. The type that the Navy recruiter would tell to come back in a few years."_

"_Immaturity and criminal motive can be a dangerous combination," Vance remarked._

"_But if we're not dealing with pros, it might be easier to outsmart them," said Tony._

* * *

><p><strong>11:57 p.m.<strong>

Ziva watched, stunned by this strange turn of events. She was too far away to hear what was being said—Tony (or Tim, even as a last-minute substitute) would have known to put on a wire. Abby, evidently, did not. Why Abby was suddenly running _after_ the kidnappers?

If only Abby knew what the team knew about them…

Fearing dire consequences, Ziva followed quietly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:41 a.m.<strong>_

_The ransom note, left in the Dakins' mailbox, had produced little information, the FBI relayed later. There were no fingerprints on it found in the AIFIS database, It was just a piece of paper printed from a computer, demanding 1.5 million dollars to be delivered to Prince William Forest Park at 11:55 p.m. for Bonnie Dakins' release._

"_They had access to a computer, but didn't send an email demand," Tony noted, back in the squad room, when this news came in._

"_Amateurs?" Ziva speculated. "It is not that easy to fake an email address, I do not think. I do not know how to do it."_

_Tim nodded. "I'm guessing our—" he stopped for a sneeze—"kidnappers aren't too tech-savvy. That alone doesn't tell us much, though."_

"_A successful kidnapper might have planned this more," said Gibbs. "Feels like kids. Most likely in it to make a buck."_

"_They would be afraid of killing," Ziva said, nodding. "If they are teenagers, they probably are confident that they can get away with the ransom money and turn Bonnie loose somewhere, and perhaps flee the country."_

"_Tony, find out what connections the Dakins family has to teenagers…friends, relatives, neighbors, anybody. Ziva, find out who on Dakins' ship has had shore leave in the last 72 hours…particularly age 22 and under. Tim…phone records for the Dakins' phones," Gibbs ordered._

_Tim's hands stopped on his keyboard. "Boss, you don't think that the Dakinses have anything to do with their daughter's kidnapping, do you?"_

"_No, but there might be something they haven't told us about; something they consider insignificant. Go."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>12:59 p.m.<strong>_

_The search narrowed down to a couple of suspects. One was Curt Ristler, a 19-year-old community college student who lived near the Dakinses. He occasionally babysat for Bonnie, and was well-liked by the family. Another was Seaman William Ames, from the Captain's ship. He'd had some disciplinary problems, and a known dislike of the Captain, and still had been on good enough behavior lately to have been granted 24 hour leave. There was no sign that Ristler and Ames knew each other, but nothing to rule that out, either._

_Ames was back on his ship now, and claimed innocence. His whereabouts during his 24 hours of leave checked out. So did his phone records. Suspicion fell on Ristler, whose family hadn't seen him in three days, saying he had told them he was going to Florida for spring break. He had a student loan, and car payments on a secondhand SUV, but no other debts that his family knew of. He was a good kid, quiet, who had never been in trouble with the law. His cell phone, recently obtained, was seldom used, and it was a trac phone. His flustered mother, not a cell phone owner herself, couldn't find where she'd written down her son's phone number, so it wasn't possible to track him that way._

_A BOLO was put out on Ristler's SUV. If he was in Florida, it might turn up there. But if he was still in the DC area, waiting for a ransom drop…sooner or later the car would be spotted._

"_Tony, you'll make the drop. Ziva and McGee will be there to back you up. I'll scout for Ristler's SUV in the park area."_

"_And if the kidnapper doesn't have Bonnie there?"_

"_I don't think she'll be far away."_

* * *

><p><strong>12:03 a.m.<strong>

"Stop! Stop!" Abby yelled. _"Stop!"_

One of the three men looked back over his shoulder. "Jeez, lady; are you nuts? We outnumber you, three to one!" But he didn't stop running, any more than his companions did. The female NCIS agent had a grim look, and everyone knew how skilled these feds were with weapons. She could probably kill them all with one shot!

"Curt, I didn't bargain for this…!"

"Shut up!" said the leader. "Shut up and run!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>2:33 p.m.<strong>_

_Gibbs snapped his phone shut. "Going to be just you and Tony, Ziva," he said with a sigh. "SECNAV's called me on a protection detail. Can't get out of it, unless it ends early."_

"_We could call McGee back in," said Tony. "He can look for the SUV. It won't matter if he sneezes while he does that."_

"_Naw. Let him sleep off his cold."_

_Tony, for once, looked a little uncertain. "You think that's wise, boss? Just me, with Ziva on my six?"_

_She smirked. "You do not think I can give you cover, Tony?"_

_He gulped, having no safe answer to that come to mind. "You know best, boss."_

* * *

><p><strong>12:04 a.m.<strong>

Abby, stop! Ziva thought in worry, as if she could send a message telepathically. Abby had too much of a head start on her, though, and with her long legs, she was a fast runner. It seemed unlikely that Ziva could catch up with her before Abby caught up with the kidnappers. And what would happen then?

* * *

><p><strong>12:08 a.m.<strong>

It wasn't until the kidnappers came to the small lot where their SUV was parked that Abby caught up with them. _"A-HA!" _she shrieked. "Is Bonnie in there? You have Bonnie in there. You have the money; give me the child NOW!"

"You're crazy, lady!" said one of the three, appearing to cower.

"I said, _give me the child!"_ Abby roared. She wasn't acting. It infuriated her that she had come this far along in the exchange and had the briefcase taken from her but didn't have Bonnie free. Feeling she had the strength of ten, Abby felt no worry for her own safety…although, of course, she probably should have. "If you don't, I'll…" She reached in the pocket of Tim's coat, mostly out of a need to do something with her hand.

The kidnappers froze. "Okay, okay!" said the leader. "She's in the car."

"If you've hurt her in any way…"

"No! I swear it! We wouldn't hurt a kid. We were just going to let her go at a gas station or somewhere. _Honest!"_

"You'd better be telling the truth!" Abby moved her fist in the pocket in rage, which might have been mistaken for gun-toting menace.

"Let the kid out, Howie," said the leader, never taking his terrified eyes off Abby.

"Okay. I'm letting her out now. See? Don't shoot me, please, lady!" The man opened the rear door and reached in, bringing out a mostly-asleep little girl in his arms. "Wake up, kid. This is where you get out."

"Mama?" the little girl murmured. "Pappy?"

Bonnie—for it was clearly the fuzzy-haired scientist-to-be—was passed to Abby's arms. "Soon," Abby whispered to her. "Soon." To the three men (who looked surprisingly young, up close) she said, stiffly, "Well. I have what I came for. You got what you came for. I think we're done here."

"You're…just going to let us get away with all this money? You're not going to stop us?"

For once, Abby saw a slight hole in her plan. Or rather, what would have been a hole, if she'd had a plan. "Uh…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:51 p.m.<strong>_

_Gibbs stepped into a nook in the ballroom, keeping the SECNAV in his line of sight, to answer his phone. "Gibbs."_

"What's going on, Gibbs?" _said Vance._ "The FBI says we haven't picked up the ransom cash yet."

"_I don't know, but I assume my team is on top of things," Gibbs replied while his mind sorted possibilities. "You were the one who put me on this detail, Leon," he couldn't resist adding._

"I thought you could multi-task. Fix this problem…_now._"

"_I'm getting mixed signals from you, Leon, but I think there are more than enough agents here. They can get along without me."_

_Vance had already hung up. _

_Gibbs got the SECNAV's attention and the man nodded vaguely. Thumbing his phone as he walked, Gibbs tried Tony's number…no response. Ziva's number…busy. Tim's number…no response. What was going on?_

_He sprinted to his car and roared out of the parking lot._

* * *

><p><strong>12:12 a.m.<strong>

"Her hands are full! Shoot her!" one of the men ordered.

"Are you insane? Killing a cop? The best we could hope for would be life in prison!"

"She's seen our faces! She can identify us!"

"No, she can't! Can you, lady?" one said, practically begging.

"Actually, yes; I'm very good at what I do," Abby said without thinking.

"We can't shoot her. We might hit the kid!"

Inspiration struck Abby. "Give me back the money," she said, raising her voice into a growl.

"Will that make it go easier on us?" one whimpered. "I've never been in trouble with the law before. I'm an A student."

"Shut UP, Jake!" one ordered, finding his gun. "Here's how it goes. We're keeping the money. The kid lives…she's too young to give testimony, anyway. You, though, have to die."

Abby trembled, but she remained erect for the child's sake. "Bonnie," she said, setting her down, "I want you to run back that way, as fast as you can. Don't stop until you meet a woman named Ziva. She's very nice. She'll take care of you."

The child looked up at her. "I don't like the dark," she whimpered. "Won't you come with me?"

"In a bit," said Abby. "There's nothing to be afraid of in the dark. You'll see. Now, run, child. God bless." She gave the girl a pat on the back to get her started, and then faced the men with all the courage she could muster, prepared to meet her end.

"Very brave," the man with the gun sneered. "Brave to the last."

"I think so, too," said Ziva, stepping suddenly into the light, gun drawn. "She is _very_ brave. You three are under arrest for kidnapping. Drop the gun."

Two of the men slowly raised their hands. The third laughed and said, "You're still outnumbered."

"Not anymore," came Gibbs' voice, behind them. "And you're outgunned." That made the kidnapper with the gun drop his.

* * *

><p><strong>12:20 a.m.<strong>

With the three men disarmed and handcuffed to a railing, all the NCIS people could do now was to wait for the night shift team to come out from DC with a van to haul the perps away and have their SUV towed to the Navy Yard.

There was a picnic table nearby, and there Abby, Ziva and Gibbs sat. Bonnie slept with her head on the table and Gibbs' jacket around her like a blanket.

"I'm even afraid to ask what happened here tonight," Gibbs said in quiet exasperation.

Abby flushed. "Somehow, I think you might get mad at me if I say anything."

"Abbs…"

"But I want to say something in my own defense. I meant well. And, as you can see, I saved Bonnie."

"And we saved you," Ziva pointed out.

"Where is DiNozzo?"

"He got in a car accident on the way here. Broke his shoulder, I think."

"And McGee?"

"He's home sick. Don't you remember, Gibbs? He left work early, and then I did, too, and—" Even in the dim lamplight she could see his glare, and decided to not push it.

"And so you took it upon yourself…"

"Well, I kind of had to. After I broke McGee…"

"You _what?"_

"See, I knew you would yell at me! I just wanted to…to do this, and make everything come out all right, and then I thought, tomorrow I would tell you about breaking Tim and it wouldn't seem so bad by light of day 'cause he's not _too_ badly broken and he will heal, in time, and…where was I going with this? I can't remember."

Gibbs sighed. "Abby, did you at any time tell the kidnappers that you were an NCIS agent?"

She eyed him. "Why, no, Gibbs. I wouldn't do that. It never occurred to me."

"You never said you were a LEO of any sort?" He pulled Tim's NCIS swoop cap off her head.

"No!"

"Gibbs, lots of employees wear NCIS gear," Ziva put in. "It is permitted. Although usually non-agents wear caps that are not black."

Realization dawned. "No, Gibbs," Abby said, shaking her head. "Never did I say that. I know it's an offense to impersonate a LEO, and such a thing could get this case thrown out of court. I was just…me. I borrowed some of Tim's clothes—without his knowledge—to fool Ziva when I went to make the drop. She was expecting to see Tim, and I wanted to show her Tim. It almost worked, perfectly."

"It almost ended, tragically," Ziva said softly. "Abby, you did not think this through at all. You did not wear a wire. Nor a vest, I would guess. And you do not have a weapon. You had a kind heart, but that was all."

"Am I forgiven?" Abby asked, in a small voice.

"Depends," said Gibbs. "How badly did you 'break' McGee?"

She coughed.

Ziva's phone chirped. It was Tony.

"_Zee-vah! Are you done with the case? I still need someone to pick me up at the hospital…please? Pretty please?"_

"Tony, I do not understand why pleas are ever pretty," Ziva replied. "But although the hour is late, I will come by the hospital and get you when we are done here." She clicked off.

"The thing that got me down here," said Gibbs, "was the FBI calling me and saying no one had ever picked up the cash. How did you bluff your way around that, Abbs?"

"I used my own briefcase," she admitted. "Weighted down a little with…stuff."

"You took a risk, Abby," Ziva said, shaking her head. "If they had opened it to count the money…"

"They couldn't. It was locked."

"Locks can be picked."

She smirked. "Not my locks. They take a lot longer. And sometimes are booby trapped."

"Remind me not to cross you in a kidnapping case," Gibbs said, shaking his head.

"Gibbs-san, I'm always on your side. You know that!"

"Good to hear. Now, just one thing more."

"What's that, _Jefe_?"

"Stop breaking my agents. I need them."

-END-


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